City of Lights
by Mariel Nightstalker
Summary: Zack is Aerith's gay best friend. Harry is Aerith's other gay best friend. CROSSOVER SLASH Zack Fair/Harry Potter


Note: Pointless stories are pointless. Thank goodness "points" are so last season!

**City of Lights**

Kunsel smashed open the door. Expecting him, Zack rushed forward. He body-checked Kunsel and broke out of the room. Kunsel, ignoring the cadet he'd been shoved into, gave chase. They slammed past a guard and knocked him down the basement stairs. Zack slipped out the security door with a quick swipe of his keycard and sprinted into the courtyard. Crossing it at a dead run, he fumbled for handholds on the concrete wall before trying the gate. It was locked. Kunsel caught up and tackled him hard. Grabbing Zack by the arm, he swung him around, and slammed him against the wall. Zack yelled with pain and then shouted several times, "Okay! Okay! Okay!"

Kunsel stopped slamming him into the wall and stepped back, swiping the sweat beading his upper lip. "Say it. Come on you son of a bitch say it. Say I'm a SOLDIER."

"You're a SOLDIER. Fuck, did you just get juiced up or something?" he leaned forward, trying to catch his breath, and winced. "Ouch. Damn it, I think you bruised my back."

"Good."

When their respective breaths were caught and Zack's back was found to be free of serious damage, Kunsel suggested that they sneak out of the facility and try to burn some energy off in the Slums.

"Like kill some monsters or something?"

Kunsel slowly shook his head. Zack raised his eyebrows. "Hookers? Dude, how many times do I have to tell you that I don't have that kind of cash? I send most of my money home; that means that I don't have any money, asshole."

"Yeah, but I do. I just got promoted, remember? I've got a big fat check waiting to be spent. And I want that spending to be both fast and stupid."

They started walking back across the courtyard to the Shinra military facility. The security guard gave them an amazed look as they strolled past.

"I'm good at spending money," Zack commented casually, stuffing his hands into the roomy pockets of his uniform.

"I know; I've seen it. Speaking of that, you still owe me from last month. Don't think I've forgotten."

"Whatever."

O

"Harry, you have a mind like a steel sieve."

"I know. I'm not proud of it. And I really am sorry. If it makes you feel better, I didn't sit down and think how funny it'd be if I forgot to pick you up from the station." Harry wrapped his arm around Aerith's shoulders, giving them a squeeze. "Please forgive me."

"It's okay; I was just scared. There was this man who wouldn't stop looking at me, and he kept his hand in his pocket the whole tome. And you know I couldn't take my Materia with me above the Plate because I'm not a registered user, so I was standing there totally unprotected while some pervert jacked off in his pants."

"I know, I know. I'm really sorry. Like I said, I would never put you in that position on purpose. You know I know how dangerous it gets," he re-filled her mug with broth. "Please, have some more. You're looking too thin these days."

"Business isn't good for flower girls in the winter."

They were sitting Elmyra's attic, also known as Harry's one-room apartment, sipping celery-flavored broth and taking gulps from the bottle of hard cider Harry swiped from his job at the liquor store down the street. It was cozy, but they were both on edge from Aerith's scare.

"Do you want to go out?"

"Yes."

O

The hooker idea lost its flavor on the train ride below Plate. The sight of the 10 o'clock shifters heading back to their warrens, their make-up smeared and spandex slovenly, was enough to dampen their respective libidos for the time being.

They hit three bars in rapid succession. Zack flirted free drinks out of the female bartenders and then high-tailed it before they could realize that he wasn't there to hunt the fairer sex. This was the primary reason Zack liked going out with Kunsel: they didn't hunt the same game, which meant that there was no competition for partners. Kunsel was even relaxed enough about Zack's sexuality to point out promising men.

After their bar-hopping, they started feeling pretty free and headed into one of the numerous underground nightclubs catering almost exclusively to a toxic mixture of Slums dealers and sex workers and Upper-Plate youth interested in breaking the law. Slum kids couldn't afford to party like this – the cover charge alone was worth a week's wages.

Zack said nothing because it was Kunsel's idea and Kunsel's money, but he didn't really like going to clubs like this. The rich kids pissed him off and the empty-eyed staff made him feel cold and guilty, though what he was guilty of was hard to pin down.

They bypassed the line and, with a nod and quick exchange with the bouncer, strutted inside. Kunsel was obviously feeling himself that night, not that Zack minded. He was happy for his friend; all of his teasing about Kunsel getting stuck in the lower ranks was meant to motivate, not discourage, him. Zack followed his friend, smirking at the way Kunsel exuded an aura of self-satisfaction and power that parted the crowd of sweating youth like fish before a shark. As they made their way to the overpriced bar, he scanned the ranks for likely partners but was disappointed. Everyone in the club felt artificial, phony somehow. It didn't help that a fair percentage of the girls were augmented: the sight of all of those identical noses and unnaturally-large bosoms was both unpleasant and surreal.

Kunsel, unlike Zack, was raised in Kalm and accustomed to "rich city girls." He even had a taste for them, especially the ones with long multicolored hair extensions. Zack wished him well as he pranced off into the crowd with a pair of inebriated girls. Left to his own devices, he let out a tired sigh and leaned against the bar, sipping his drink. He'd already had a fair bit to drink that night, and could afford to slow down.

Somehow knocked against him and he spilled his drink all down the front of his trousers.

It was far too loud to make conversation, so the girl responsible pressed her palms together and bowed, mouthing many apologies. Zack smiled to show that he didn't take it personally, and she blushed. Noticing the blush made him realize that she wasn't wearing make-up. In fact, she looked decidedly out of place. Dressed in a pink cotton dress and practical lace-up boots, she was wearing no one's idea of a girl out on the town. The long brown braid just added to the wholesome effect.

She was interesting. He gestured at the bar, mouthing his offer. She nodded and scribbled down her order on the electronic notepad the bartender handed her. When Zack reached for his wallet she waved him away, bowing again. Laughing, he bowed back to thank her. He tried to make conversation while they waited, but it was just too loud. Finally their drinks arrived and he hustled her out of the hub of the club to the secluded booths ringing the club. It was still pretty loud, but not too loud to talk.

The girl slid gracefully into the booth, her hands wrapped protectively around her drink. When she was settled, she pulled her long braid over her shoulder and began fiddling with the end.

He smiled and introduced himself. She smiled back, "I'm Aerith. Um, before we say anything else, I just want you to know that I'm not flirting with you. Just so you know."

He was surprised. That was what he was going to say next. He'd never been on the receiving end of that statement, and it caught him off guard. She didn't look like a lesbian (not that there was a uniform, mind you). Maybe she had a boyfriend.

"That's okay – I wasn't going to flirt with you either."

She raised her eyebrows. "Then why'd you buy me a drink?"

"I wanted an opportunity to ask what a nice girl like you is doing in a plastic palace like this."

"I'm getting drunk. My friend works here part time and can get us in for free if he helps clean up tomorrow morning. Plus he gets a staff discount on drinks, so it's a pretty good deal if we split the price and the work."

"Where's your friend?"

She pointed in the direction of the far wall where a curtained section concealed the illicit behavior of amorous partiers. "He's a flirter. I'm not."

"Oh."

They chatted, discovering a mutual love of all things green and leafy, spicy Gongagan noodles, and friends who could provide ample access to alcohol. A little drunk, Zack suggested that she become his straight female friend. Just as drunk, Aerith agreed that it sounded like a great idea. They exchanged numbers and agreed to meet up the next time he came to the club.

Half an hour later, Kunsel came stumbling out of the curtained area and told Zack that he was ready to go. Zack kissed Aerith goodnight and she mimed a PHS call to affirm their intent to meet again. He nodded and laughed a little. Some people went out to the clubs to dance, some just to find physical companionship, but he was willing to bet that most people did not go to the club looking for a new hag.

O

"You're going to get crabs. Or syphilis! Or maybe even herpes."

Harry scoffed.

"I'm serious! You don't know those people or where they've been."

"I'm not worried about that; my body can handle anything."

'Oh really?"

"Yeah. Really."

Aerith kept her eyebrows up until Harry changed the subject.

"Who were you talking to tonight? The guy, the one with the long black hair and SOLDIER eyes."

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"I would; he was quite good looking. And he was obviously gay, so I can't imagine why you would object to me knowing him."

"Zack is a nice boy, and if I can keep him from your wiles, so much the better. He's the type to take things personally," she paused as an elderly man walked past to get off the bus, "You're getting worse, you know. I remember when you'd only go screwing around if you were upset, excited, or if an exceptional case approached you first. I guess what I'm trying to say is, are you okay?"

"I'm fine…okay, no, I'm not. That's obvious. I'm…my…do you remember when I told you about not needing Materia to access magic? About having magic inside of me?" She nodded. "Well, it's been a long time since I was able to channel it, and its starting to make me go a little stir crazy. I feel like I'm sitting in one of those vibrating massage chairs. Sex helps me feel normal."

"Does…does fighting help too?"

He gave her a swift look. She pursed her lips, "I know about the fights. Mother told me she saw you taking on three guys last week. I didn't want to bring it up because, well, I'm not your girlfriend or anything, but I _am _worried."

"I'm worried too. Its getting worse and I don't know what to do about it. It hurts sometimes."

"Oh my god."

O

Zack took a deep breath and then pressed 'dial.'

"Hello. This is Aerith Gainsborough. Who is speaking?"

He smiled. Her phone didn't have caller I.D.

"This is Zack. We met at…uh…we met last weekend."

"Oh! Hi! How are you?"

"I'm good. I'm actually in the Slums today. That's why I called. Can I buy you something to eat?"

"Sure!"

O

Harry liked SOLDIERS. The young ones didn't know their own strength, and some of the older ones preferred to give that impression. He knew that he was putting himself in danger, and that one of these days he was going to become seriously injured, but every day the fires inside were stoked higher. He awoke to pinpricks of pain in his fingers and toes; his tongue itched and his eyes ached.

Sex and violence, the two things that could get his blood pressure up, became the night and day. Aerith rarely accompanied him now, and he was glad. He missed her and valued her perspective, but he was ashamed of his inability to control himself and his urges. He didn't want her to see him like that. If possible, he wanted her to remember him like he was when he first arrived in Midgar.

It was an accident. He was on a field mission with Ron, and the embezzler they were chasing through one of the abandoned Pureblood estates led them deep into its labyrinthine basements. Harry became separated from Ron, and stumbled into a mirrored room that locked behind him. While he was trying to escape, one of the blasting spells he cast ricocheted against something embedded in the ceiling. It exploded, coating Harry with bright green dust. The next thing he knew, he was standing in a desert alone and defenseless.

Three days of walking, crawling, and dehydration later, he came across Midgar. Mistaking it for a mirage, he would've ignored it completely if a bus hadn't nearly run him over on its way inside.

He met Aerith and her mother shortly after entering the city in their church, which ran a program to help the utterly destitute (everyone was poor in the Slums, but some were poorer than poor). They took him in. He got a job. And, slowly, he came to terms with his new circumstances. He hoped to return home to Earth someday, but he knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle. He just hoped that Ron got out of that estate safely.

In short, everything had been fine…until his magic started to build up. With nowhere to go, it started to cleanse his immune system (which was very uncomfortable for a good month or two) and then worked its way through his old injuries. He was amazed and grateful at first as his collection of War and Auror scars began to slowly vanish, but when his body ran out of problems the magic had to go somewhere. It was sick, but he started picking up infections from his sexual encounters on purpose, just to keep it occupied. Unfortunately his magic had started leaching into his partners and setting to work on their infections as well, which had led to some very interesting scenes. Most people did not react well to the unexpected sensation of a strong wind moving through their body's intimate areas.

Of course, the biggest issue was keeping everything under wraps. There were a lot of people in the Slums with serious health problems that couldn't afford treatment, and if word got out that he could heal them, he'd be mobbed.

He actually tried healing people when he first found out that he could, but when three people died in succession from the shock of alien magic, he decided that it was best to not take chances. It was not his place to play god, regardless of ability.

Knowing that he needed to find a way to stabilize his magic, he decided that he would try to find a lover who fought for a living, one that wouldn't mind fighting with him. He would prefer a SOLDIER simply because his magic sometimes surged while he was fighting, elevating his ability beyond that of an ordinary strong person. With a SOLDIER the chances of seriously hurting them was quite low.

He set his sights on Zack. He'd met him a few times when he came to the house to pick up Aerith for one reason or another, and carried himself like an affable and capable young man. From Aerith he gleaned that Zack was a country boy from Gongaga who still loved his family very much, and even sent most of his money home to support them. He was Neville Longbottom's sensitivity spliced with Cormac McLaggen's self-conscious sensuality.

Harry wasn't in love with him, sure, but there was the potential to build a mutually-fulfilling relationship. That was good enough.

O

Zack slowly became aware of Harry. At first he only saw him in passing, but then Harry came out with them a few times (when Zack brought some friends down with him to celebrate one thing or another). Every time he saw him, it was like his eyes were metal and Harry was a magnet. He didn't stand a chance.

He wasn't even sure what it was. Harry was sexy, yes, but Zack was in an army that enhanced its soldiers into gorgeous hunks. Nearly everyone he worked with was ridiculously attractive. Hell, he served under _General Sephiroth, _a veritable angel in human flesh. But there was something about Harry that stuck, something powerful that made him nervous and aroused all at once.

Harry's ability to slip away multiple times in a single evening with different people without anyone getting upset about it was admirable, but it made Zack's blood boil. It was petty jealousy and lust blended together into a heady cocktail. He managed to control himself until he brought a fellow gay from SOLDIER down to go out for drinks with Aerith and Harry, and Harry had sex with him while he took Aerith dancing.

Did Harry want everyone but him, or was he merely respecting Aerith by keeping his hands off of her friend? Whatever the reason, Zack wasn't happy about it.

O

Aerith knew what he was up to before he did. As he was smoothing a hand through his damp hair she came into the bathroom, pointed her finger at his face, and said, "You had better be looking for commitment this time. If you hurt him, so help me, I'll hurt you."

"Yes ma'am."

"And don't be late!"

"Yes ma'am."

As she left, he wondered if that was her way of telling him that it was okay to make a move.

O

Zack was waiting for them above Plate. It was his birthday and they were celebrating it with dinner at a high-end restaurant that served real Gongagan food. Zack found it hilarious that the cheap stuff they sold under the Plate, which was priced and sold by the same class of people that made it in his hometown, was considered less authentic than the aesthetically-plated fare sold in their current venue by aristocratic waiters.

Aerith was embarrassed about her dress and worried that she would be turned away at the door. Zack made sure to reassure her when they met by telling her how lovely she looked. She'd twisted her long thick hair atop her head into a spiral with long curls spilling out down her back. Her dress was frayed, but with hair like that, nobody was looking at what she was wearing. If he'd been straight he would've done his damnedest to sweep her off her feet. As it was, he contented himself with kissing her and taking her hand as they walked to their table.

As casually as he could (his voice still betrayed him by cracking), he asked, "Is Harry not coming?"

"Oh, he's coming if he knows what's good for him. He just had to pick up a shift this afternoon. Where's Kunsel and the rest?"

"They won't be dining with us – they'll come out for drinks after, though."

They chattered about their lives and their mutual friends, ordered drinks, ordered appetizers, and ate their appetizers. Zack smiled when he saw how flustered she was getting over Harry being late. She was raised in the Slums and as such had an exaggerated respect for all things above Plate. Harry being late to dinner was like someone swearing loudly in church.

Finally Harry arrived, and it was worth the wait. Dressed in a used suit, he still radiated an aura of importance that made the head waiter come bustling up to him to bow and scrape. To Zack's surprise, he showed none of Aerith's meekness and treated the waiter the way the man expected him to: as if Harry was a visiting prince who deserved to be served on gold rather than mere ceramic.

When the waiter sidled away to fetch him a menu, Harry leaned over to kiss Aerith's cheek and apologized for being late.

"I was on the train on time, I swear. There was a monster skirmish on the tracks and they wouldn't let anyone get on or off while they cleaned it up. You can check the news tonight if you don't believe me."

She held up her hands, "I believe you, I do. But its Zack you should be apologizing to, not me."

Harry turned to Zack and smiled, "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't ruin your birthday dinner."

Harry had never smiled at him like that before, in the way he smiled at his partners. Zack smiled back, suddenly shy. He was not a shy man, and Harry's effect put him off balance. He could barely articulate his order when the waiter returned, and he didn't know how to protest when, in a completely unexpected move, Harry paid for everyone's dinner and drinks.

He spent most of the night out smiling vaguely at his friends as they drank and congratulated him on making it another year in ShinRa's army, his thoughts swirling around Harry like clouds around a mountaintop. It didn't help that whenever he looked at him Harry looked back, smiling.

Sometime around three in the morning the party's fervor began to die off. As his friends departed, he stayed below to help Harry take Aerith home. In a manner somewhat out of character, she had gotten herself spectacularly drunk. Harry carried her and Zack kept a look out for potential muggers. Not that anyone would bother them – Zack was wearing the nicest thing he owned. Namely, his uniform.

He made tea while Harry sat Aerith down and began with rapid movements to unpin her hair. Zack watched, fascinated, at of the corner of his eye as her heavy hair came down piece by piece. She lolled forward and Harry caught her. She giggled and said that she was going to fall asleep. Harry made her drink a cup of tea and then enlisted Zack to put her into bed, dressed but for her boots.

Harry and Zack ended up alone in the kitchen at four in the morning, drinking tea and eating toast to stave their drunken hunger pangs.

Zack looked at Harry. Harry looked back.

"Happy birthday."

"Thanks." His voice emerged as a hoarse whisper. He cleared his throat. Harry smiled.

"I make you nervous." It wasn't a question, and Zack didn't deny it.

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"I think that you're…you are…I don't understand what I'm trying to say, but there's something about you that's different, and I like that. It makes me want to know you and to spend time with you. I feel like, even though I met you almost a year ago, I hardly know you at all."

"You could get to know me," Harry said softly. Under the table his foot settled against Zack's. Zack swallowed and glanced away, towards the window. There was a picture of Elmyra holding Aerith as a very young girl.

"I want to, but I'm scared that I won't like what I find out. Oh, shit. Sorry; was that offensive?"

Harry smiled and shook his head, "No. It's probably true. I don't really like who I am right now either. You see, there's something wrong with me. It's making me do things I would never ordinarily do, like pick fights and fuck strangers."

Zack flinched at the word 'fuck'. It was one thing to know that Harry got up to all kinds of business in the backs of clubs, in bar bathrooms, and in abandoned alleyways. It was another thing to hear Harry admit it so bluntly.

"What do you mean, there's something wrong with you? Are you supposed to be on medication or something?"

"No; I'm just…restless. I need to express myself."

"Oh."

"Do you want to help me become still again?"

Zack was terrified of that question and terrified of Harry. He swallowed his fear and inched forward across the distance separating them until he could smell the clean Castile smell of Harry's soap and the convenience-store fragrance of his shampoo. Harry laid his hand on his cheek, unexpectedly tender, and kissed him.

"I'll be careful with you if you're careful with me" he whispered.

O

END

Note: If I have my way, I will write an Angeal/Harry and do some work on Vivified this upcoming week. We shall see what we shall see.


End file.
